You found me
by Docnerd89
Summary: "This is the story of Kate Beckett". That's what the first sentence read. It made her breath hitch and her heart skip a beat. She read it over, trying to figure if she was seeing things. It didn't change. "This is the story of Kate Beckett. This is the story of the woman who found me."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Castle.

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**You Found Me**

**Chapter 1**

Kate felt terrible as she entered the loft. They both knew what her job was like. Even so, they couldn't shake off the disappointment. She couldn't shake off the disappointment. Knowing that he understood, that he wouldn't accuse her of anything, that he would just smile and wave her apologies away – it made her feel worse and better at the same time.

Sighing heavily as she shut the door behind her, she set her purse on a side table and started taking her gloves off. That's when she noticed that the usually lively house seemed quiet. Too quiet. It was never this quiet, and it was never this dark. She turned on the lights and saw that there was what looked like a clothes line hanging from a picture on the wall next to the door, leading all the way to his office.

She rolled her eyes. Over the last few months of staying together, she had come to learn one very important thing. The very man who had so many times referred to her as extraordinary, was that himself – unique, one of a kind. Some of his annoying habits were hard to get used to – he was way too preppy in the morning. Kate knew that was thin, but really it was only little things like that. Over all, they were a good match. They made a great pair.

Then there were his Castle-style quirks that no woman could possibly see as anything but endearing. She was extraordinary, yes, but she wasn't immune to his charms. Having the ability to hide just how much her heart would melt sometimes, well, that only made him try harder.

On the days that he couldn't accompany her to the precinct, he would pack her lunch. She never did that for herself before he came along, and the last time she remembered taking packed lunch with her was way back in school. To say that she was surprised the first time she saw a brown paper bag next to Alexis' but carrying her name on it, was an understatement. She took it with her to work; scowled, glared at it, silently fought a battle to resist being 'taken care of'. Well, she tried to resist it, till she started to miss him, and then being 'taken care of' turned into 'being loved'. She was surprised again, when she opened it to find a sticky note stuck to a zip lock bag carrying a huge sandwich. It read, "Super sandwich for Super Cop, courtesy of Super Writer. I ate the first attempt, this is the second. Omnomnom." She laughed and proceeded to eat the sandwich. He'd surprise her when she least expected it.

And so she shouldn't have found this surprising. Sheets of paper hung from the line, kept there by clothes pins. He'd probably turned to writing when she had called to cancel their date. She knew he'd been looking forward to it, so much that he didn't come in to the precinct with her. As the universe would have it, she landed a creepy, weird, Beckett-style case and got too caught up in it. When she called him earlier to cancel, she'd felt bad and even asked if he wanted to come in to the precinct, check it out for himself, but he refused. It made her feel worse. He didn't want to come in. He understood of course, but he couldn't effectively hide the slight note of disappointment. She couldn't blame him, not when she was disappointed herself. But this was the job. This was the Kate Beckett he fell in love with and they both knew it.

He'd told her that he had to get some writing done anyway. It sounded like an excuse not to join her at the precinct, she'd thought earlier. But now that she saw the chapters hanging in their living room, she felt a little better. He had really wanted to write, not sulk. By the looks of things, he had gotten a lot of it done. Maybe he fell asleep at the desk. She'd found him like that before, with paper stuck to his cheek, hair mussed, looking entirely too adorable for his age. She took off her jacket and smiled as she decided to head for the office, to apologize.

"Castle,", she called as she made her way in. But he wasn't there. Her brows furrowed in confusion. She moved further, hoping to find him dozing off in the bedroom, but he wasn't there either. Quickly she checked the rest of the house, though why he would be anywhere else, she didn't know. Her concern grew when she made her way back down the stairs, and she decided to call him. Maybe he needed to run some errands.

When his phone kept going to voicemail, she didn't know what more to do. It wasn't her style to panic, and her detective skills told her that panic wouldn't help her find him anyway. So she took a deep breath and decided to wait. Maybe he went for a walk to clear his head before writing a scene, and he switched his phone to silent. It wasn't usual for him to do the latter, but it's a possibility.

It was dinner time and she was hungry, but she couldn't bring herself to go to the kitchen in search of food. She couldn't not wait for him right now. So instead she decided to read what he had come up with so far. It might even give her a clue to where he went, depending on where he got stuck writing.

She made her way to the sheet hanging nearest to the wall. Earlier she'd seen the page number at the bottom, so she knew that's where the chapter began. She undid the clip and took the paper and leaned against the wall, crossing her legs.

No sooner had she read the first word, than she let out a gasp.

"_This is the story of Kate Beckett". _That's what the first sentence read. It made her breath hitch and her heart skip a beat. She read it over, trying to figure if she was seeing things. It didn't change. _"This is the story of Kate Beckett. This is the story of the woman who found me."_

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**A/N: **Thoughts?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Castle.

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, and reviewing. : ) I'm trying to avoid largely italicized chapters because it hurts to read. But I'll put a line in there or something so that it doesn't get too confusing. Let me know what ya'll think so that I can change it if need be. : )

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**Chapter 2**

"_This is the story of Kate Beckett". _That's what the first sentence read. It made her breath hitch and her heart skip a beat. She read it over, trying to figure if she was seeing things. It didn't change. _"This is the story of Kate Beckett. This is the story of the woman who found me."_

She continued reading.

* * *

This is the story of Kate Beckett. This is the story of the woman who found me.

It was the thrill of the chase. She was the chase; and clearly I was thrilled. Derek Storm had finally fallen; taken his last stand. I was done with Storm, much to the dismay of the highly paid publicist, and the highly irate editor. But Storm was my creation, and it was time to close that chapter. I wasn't lost, I wasn't afraid about ending something that had become a habit, a comfort. They called it writer's block; didn't stop to think that maybe I was taking a vacation. They were right. It was writer's block, as my mother very frequently hastened to point out. It's a maternal thing. I think.

That's when she found me. I thought it was the first time, but as I found out later, I was wrong. She brought me in for questioning. My daughter asked me that night when I went home whether I was scared. But she knew and so did I, that no, I wasn't scared. I was ecstatic. A murder! Based on my books! Stuff like that doesn't happen in real life. It happens in – well, books! I was excited, and perversely honored. Obviously I was bored.

Beckett didn't think that a murder was something to be excited over. She chastised me. Despised me. Obviously I wasn't bored anymore.

Through this first case, I found that she really was something else. She was smart, cunning, and obviously skilled. She was confident, determined, and persistent. She was beautiful, graceful, and caring. She was hot. She was sexy. But the thing that positively enamored me was how tall she was. Not just her height. The mile long, slender things that were her legs surely belonged to a supermodel. But that wasn't it. It's the way she held herself. Head high, chin up, eyes forward. She was a woman who knew where she stood, and knew where she wanted to go.

I'd never known anyone like her until then. Still don't, all these years later.

I stayed on for that first case. How could I stay away? I was excited for the first time in months. Words were running a mile a minute in my head. Everyone who knows us says that I wormed my way into her life. It's entirely unfair. She infiltrated my mind before I had the chance to infiltrate her life. I stand by the fact that she has that effect on everyone, but not everyone can handle it. I deserve a medal. But don't tell her I said that.

She met me push for push, shove for shove. No, I never shoved her. I value my life. But the verbal sparring? That's always been our thing. She took me on, word for word; brought all the words out of me. She was – she is the perfect muse.

She challenged me, right from the start. I've never been one to back down from a challenge. I read her. I read her correctly. She told me then, not to think that I knew her. I didn't know her. I held my tongue, thinking that I would get to know her soon enough.

We solved the case. I found out later that she really thought she'd never see me again. Not in person. That I'd stay the handsome writer dude who wrote her favorite books (I may be paraphrasing a bit). Wrong!

She was the perfect muse, and I wasn't about to let her slip. I wasn't going to give up on a chase. Yeah, books weren't the only thing on my mind. She knew that too. I'm a blatantly open person, it would seem.

I had friends who were willing to help me. And so it began. I've written a number of best sellers. They've made it to the top of several lists. But I couldn't have possibly written a better beginning if I tried.

She was my muse, my inspiration and I hoped back then, that if my plan would have worked, she'd be a friend. Maybe more. She told me once that I had no idea.

I didn't know her. I had no idea. I resented that. I wanted to fix that. That was my goal. I was intrigued by the enigma that was Kate Beckett.

* * *

Kate stopped to wipe a tear off the second page she had just finished reading. When had she started crying? She didn't know why he was doing this; why he had written this. Again he surprised her. Some of the things she knew. Some of them she didn't. Rick was always open when it came to his feelings. Much more than she ever could be. But this -.

There were more pages hanging on the line. But she had to stop for a bit. Gather her senses. He wasn't even here, and he'd stolen her breath. A large, black leather binder had been kept on the sofa. That was probably him too. It was empty. Probably meant for these pages – which she just noticed had punched-out holes to fit into it - once she was done with them. Picking it up, she ran her hand across it once before opening it. She took in another ragged breath when on seeing the inside of the cover. Engraved in fancy, beautiful gold letters were the words, "Property of Katherine Beckett".

Sitting down on the couch, she put the pages that she had finished reading on the left in the binder. Closing her eyes and letting her lips curve into the smile that had wanted to escape her with every word that she read, she breathed out a deep sigh. What got her more than his words, was the fact that she knew they weren't just words meant to appease her. That was what he really thought. If this was what he had thought back then? She had no idea either.

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**A/N:** Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Don't own it.

**A/N:** I'll take this chance to say that I'm blown away by the response to this story. Thank you all for being so kind. : )

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**Chapter 3**

Kate took another deep, steadying breath and brought down another couple of pages from the line. Making her way to the couch again, she sat down and drew her knees to her chest. Might as well be comfortable while reading it. She found a sticky note on the page. "Got a new box of tissues 'cause I finished the other one. Damn onions. Sniff." She laughed. Oh, that man.

Never had she met a man who cooked like he did. The food was good, but the preparation he put into it? Even better. He'd roped her into some of their cooking sessions too. He did what he could to make it fun. Of course he did. The onions cutting involved protective glasses. The kind you use while swimming. If they baked, no surface was spared from their dough wars. Even Alexis – sweet, quiet, innocent Alexis – would unleash her Castleyness. They'd teamed up and won against him in a cherry-ball match. It involved chucking cherries – the baseball, at carrots – the bats. His face was priceless when his 'home run' landed up in her mouth. She'd smirked at him when his jaw went slack. If Alexis wasn't around, she'd have done more. Maybe next time.

Settling back into the present, she wondered where he was, but figured that all this had been done for her benefit. He probably had a plan. So she started reading again.

* * *

Like any gorgeous dame, this one had a past. Kate's past had been riddled with darkness. It was the kind of darkness that she wouldn't even wish upon her enemies. That was the thing about her though. What she _did_ wish for was a better world. While she wished and hoped for justice in her life, she fought and worked for justice for those who had been wronged.

A thorough professional – that's what Kate Beckett is. When she'd learned some of the things she did will always remain a mystery. That's part of her story that I can only guess. Sadly, she knew exactly how to comfort those who had lost, because she had to do that for herself when she had lost. She knew that people could fall into the deep, dark recesses that could suck the light out of life because she'd seen that happen to people she loved. It had happened to her too.

When darkness had engulfed her family, broken them, she had made a decision. Pre-law at Stanford with so many options in life; so much potential – I have no doubt that she could have become the first female Chief Justice. That was where she stood before her life had turned upside down. Homicide Detective, Kate Beckett of the NYPD. That's where she reached when she decided to be her own guiding light.

She told me, much later when she trusted me enough with the information that she read my books all the while. When she had nothing else to hold on to, she found peace in the fictional mysteries that lined the shelves of her favorite library.

Any other person would probably hate reading about murder when it became a reality. Not Kate. She faces things head on. Nothing scares her. Fear fears her. This is the point where she'd laugh at me. And yet, I am not joking. Honest to God. She's intimidating.

One day, while she was training to be a detective, she found that she had finished all the books by the author she was pursuing. She searched the shelves for something new. That's the first time she found me.

Lying there, brand new on the shelf was one of my books. Several of my other works were stacked next to it. "In a hail of bullets", she said was the first one she picked up.

She loved the books because they weren't ominous. For the longest time, I thought she loved them because of my handsome mug on the back. Guess not. They had good endings. Not necessarily happy endings, but good endings. Just endings. And that was something she wanted too. She devoured all of them. One by one, she made her way through all my books. And then she read them again and again and again. They're well worn. It tugs at my heart when I see them.

She once stood in line for hours at a time to get a book signed. I didn't remember. Though she told me that it was a long time ago, and that the line had been too big, I still spent the night trying to remember. To hold on to the image of a younger Kate Beckett, strong willed and awed about a bunch of books I'd written.

When she told me, she thought it would boost my ego. Well, duh! But it broke my heart too. Here she was, all young and fierce in her determination to catch a killer and I was writing books that would bend to my will. The fact was that I gave her fiction – all I gave her were words. I told her as much, but she scolded me. Rolled her eyes in that sweet way she does and bit her lip when she saw that I was beating myself up. She took my hands in hers. "Rick," she said softly, "you gave me more than just words. You gave me hope."

She doesn't know. For a detective who is so good at her job, she can be really oblivious. She doesn't know that that's exactly how I felt about her from the start. She gave me more than words. It was always more than the books.

* * *

Damn onions. Kate had to stop reading. What was he doing to her? She'd kill him if she woke up with puffy eyes in the morning. Maybe she'd spare him because he was sweet enough to think of the tissues. She took the next page, and began reading it.

* * *

Going back to that first year together, it was one of the best of my life. She let me tag along on her cases. Mostly because she was forced to let me tag along on her cases. It's a good thing to know a guy everywhere. Even better if they're poker buddies.

We solved cases. I helped. She agrees now, but getting her to agree back then? Pfft. It was impossible. Seriously, I deserve a medal.

I compensated by being impossible too. It was just too much fun to invade her personal space. That and she had something about her that just pulled me closer. She was a beacon of light. I was that annoying insect that hovers around it. That is, until I imbimbed the light she gave off and became a firefly. That's what she does to people. She makes their butts glow. (I'm covering my ear as I write this. It's a reflex.)

There was a line that I had to, reluctantly I may add, stop from crossing. At least if I wanted to keep all appendages intact. Blew that line to smithereens with great effort, much after that. Back then though, it was nice and solid – an anchor for her, a leash for me.

But we were good at the job. We were making progress until I decided to be a butthead and butted my head into her personal life. The part of her that she asked me to stay out of. Her dark past. It was too late when I realized that it had been a mistake. That's when she broke my heart for the first time. I didn't even know it. Didn't know she had that kind of power over my heart. It was much later when Alexis told me that I'd been skulking and sulking that I realized I missed her. When she locked me out of her life, it was all I could do to actually stay out.

She found me again. I apologized and she took me back. Unlocked her doors to give me a second chance. I decided to make the most of it. I'd take her lead. If she wanted to forget her past, wanted me to forget it, then that's what I'd do. We fell back into a pattern so quickly – solving cases left, right and center. It's like I'd never been gone. We were good. We were better together.

Things were going well. My mistake forgotten, our feud forgotten, and her past forgotten – until it wouldn't stay forgotten anymore. She'd saved me a few times by then. But this time, by saving me, she was foregoing a chance at solving the case that had made her what she had become.

Nikki Heat was based on her. She's a kickass detective. Another set of best sellers. She is not even a fraction of the woman that inspired her.

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**A/N:** Thoughts?


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it. Love it with all my heart though.

**A/N: **Thank you all. : )

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**Chapter 4**

At the loft, Kate was now crying in earnest. She didn't even bother trying to hide it. Her thought processes were all a big mess. One minute she was glad that he wasn't around to see her turn into this mushy puddle, the next she wished with all her might that he come in and sweep her off her feet literally, after having done it so well figuratively. Then again, she wanted to read the rest of it and if he was here, there's no way she'd be able to do that. No way would she be anywhere but all over him, under him and around him. He'd have to pry her off.

She cried her heart out for another couple of minutes, before trying to reel it all in; hoping that her blurred vision would subside enough to let her read again. Breathe his words again.

* * *

In the dark room, close to eleven pm now, Richard Castle squirmed against his restraints. He was nervous.

What had he been thinking? Well, he knows what he'd been thinking. Everyone said that his books, the Nikki Heat series, were his love letters to her. It was kind of true. Not entirely, but yeah. That got him thinking about doing this. He knew she loved his books; loved his words. Always has.

He'd give her more. More love in whatever way he could give her, in whatever way she would take it. He'd give her all his words. They're a part of him. _He_ is hers.

It sounded like a great idea at a time. Now though, he was squirming in anticipation and in anxiety. He couldn't sit still. But he couldn't exactly move too far. This right here? Not such a bright idea. Though only one of his hands had been cuffed to the bar under the window, it was starting to chafe. He didn't realize when it first came on just how tight it would be. And of course he didn't have the skeleton key in his wallet today. He did have a pack of gum. Then there was his phone. It seems that there aren't too many games you could play one handed, with the wrong hand. Great.

He could think. He liked thinking. Especially about her. Yeah, he'd been thinking about her the whole time while writing her the story, but he could spend an entire lifetime thinking about her. It's his favorite past time – well, his second favorite past time after trying to intentionally annoy her.

He thought back to the day she agreed to move in with him.

* * *

Castle was hovering. She hated when he was hovering. Like a pest she couldn't swat away. So he hovered more.

"You know, I could just throw those in the washing machine," he said, pointing to the clothes she was picking up.

"And what do I wear in the meantime?", Kate asked him with a pointed look.

He grinned and earned himself an eye roll.

"Castle, I'm not parading around your house, naked. Give that dream up."

"You're mean," he said with a pout. "Don't ruin my fantasies with your reality."

Her laughter rang through the air between them and before he knew it, he couldn't hold his pout anymore. It made way for a smile that she sweetly kissed, quickly before he had a chance to turn it into something more.

"It would save you time and energy if you came prepared, Beckett. Channel the scout within you."

"I was never a scout," she said and raised her eyebrow, "And unlike you, I've never said I was."

"Mmf. Too bad. You'd look great in the uniform," he said as his eyes raked over her body that she tried in vain to hide under the thin white bed sheet.

"That's kind of … creepy, Castle," she said distractedly, still trying to find her shirt. How could she lose such a large piece of fabric?

"Stop with the deflection. I would graciously clean out an entire drawer for you. Just keep some stuff here,", he tried to say it nonchalantly but who was he kidding? It was a big step as far as she was concerned and he was petrified. He was even more petrified when she stopped looking for her shirt and stood up straight to look right into his eyes. Like she was searching for – something?

Repressing the urge to whimper, he crossed his fingers behind his back instead. She surprised him with a huge, teeth baring smile. The kind that made him temporarily colorblind. Everything else turned grey compared to the vibrancy that emanated from a happy Kate Beckett.

"Okay," she said with a small nod and continued searching for her shirt. Where was that damn thing?

"What?" He asked, thoroughly flabbergasted.

"What what?" She asked as she picked up his pillow, and then hers.

"You agreed to move your stuff in, just like that?"

She raised her eyebrow again, and she was clearly fighting off her smile. "Hmm. Why? Did you want me to fight you?"

"No! Not at all. But I did expect it…?"

"What have I told you about making assumptions, Castle?"

"Not to."

"Right."

"So…. "

She huffed in impatience, while looking under the bed. "So?"

It took him a minute to reply. The view was good. He cleared his throat and said, "So I shouldn't assume that it's too early to ask you to move in?"

She froze again; didn't stand up this time though. He gulped, almost audibly, hoping that he hadn't pushed too far. And that if he had, she'd think it was a joke. It wasn't a joke.

She turned her head to look at him, and again he felt like he was giving an exam under her scrutiny. "That assumption makes sense."

"Right," he said, hoping that he kept the disappointment wasn't evident in his voice. Of course he knew not to hope quite that much when it came to –

"But yeah, it's an unnecessary assumption."

He choked on nothing. So gob smacked that he could just stare at her with wide eyes. "Move in with me," he cried out in a high pitch before the chance was gone.

Oh, there it is. The shirt was under his shirt, which was under his side of the bed. She surfaced with it and looked at him while putting it on and buttoning it up. Her lips twitched as she saw him, practically holding his breath. He really was too easy sometimes.

Making her way to him, she sat down on his lap, and his eyes widened even further. He held on to her tightly, whether grounding himself or her, she wasn't sure.

"Okay Rick, I'll move in with you," she said placing a kiss on his cheek, under his left eye.

He beamed. She beamed with him. "Just like that?" he asked. He could have sworn that those drum beats he was hearing was the wild thumping of his heart.

"I'll still hold on to my apartment for a while. And it'll take time to move. No movers, we do it ourselves," she said and he nodded his head with such vigor that she was getting dizzy. She held his face in her hands. "But yeah, just like that."

And one day, just like that, his house was theirs. "You're extraordinary," he breathed and showed her how very, very happy she'd just made him.

* * *

He stopped yanking at his cuffs. Not only was it futile, but it had also started to itch a little. But he'd wait patiently. He'd wait on her forever if he had to. But he hoped that it wouldn't take quite that long. It was probably a bad idea to have that last cup of coffee after he visited the men's room instead of before it.

With his chin resting on his hand, his elbow resting on his thigh, he smiled as he thought about more memories. He'd happily wait for her to show up and set him free; and then he wouldn't wait anymore.

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**A/N:** Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I've been touring the hospitals in my city in search for a job. Finally scored my first interview! Needless to say - and yet I'm saying it - I don't own Castle.

**A/N: **Just one more chapter after this. Thank you lovely people, for sticking with this. Thank especially to those who left reviews. They mean a lot, and help me try to improve.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Kate had finally managed to stop crying. She shouldn't have bothered, she realized as she read the next few pages.

* * *

It went well for a long time. I thought I stood a chance. I was trying to get better for her. When she almost got blown up by a demented psychopath – that's when I knew just how far gone I was. When she started dating another cop – that's when I knew how much power she already had over my heart. She broke it again. But I couldn't break hers. I had to bow out gracefully. It killed me. Walking away from Kate Beckett voluntarily is the hardest thing anyone could possibly have to do.

I tried to avoid her. Let her have the kind of life she wanted. The kind without me in it. But the faiths were stronger than our foolishness. She found me again. Funnily enough, by then three out of four times that she found me, she'd been angry. I sense a pattern here.

We did what we used to do best. Skirted the issues and placed bets instead. She lost – intentionally. I didn't know that for a long time. She doesn't know that I suspected it for a long time.

I was with someone else; settling for something good because I knew that I couldn't get something perfect. Settling was not a good idea. Chasing after my perfect was. And I thought I'd given up the chase, but I don't think I ever did. Not really. I couldn't. I didn't have a say in the matters of my heart. The heart wants what the heart wants.

When I found out about he who shan't be named (Personally I like the moniker 'He who I ought to have pummeled to the ground, but Kate didn't like that one much.), well, repetitive heart break sucks. I realized though that no matter who came in the way, my biggest obstacle was that my heart didn't care. Or that it cared too much. And so settling wasn't enough for me anymore.

Could I stand by and watch while my love loved someone else? It was hard. Like a chronic pain that was immune to all drugs. Was being her friend enough? It was enough for then. Anyone who knows her knows that she's worth it. I knew she was worth my every effort, without a doubt. That's where I took my stand. Next to her, where I belonged. Others be damned.

We were content, for a long time, getting back to the basics. Being friends, maybe a even little closer than before. She closed off one aspect of her life from me completely. I hadn't known then that it was because I had inadvertently been cause for heartache too. I thought it was just because that place in her life had been filled by someone else. Someone who wasn't me.

But in doing so, she opened up another place for me in her life. One of my goals – getting to be her friend – had been achieved. People should be so lucky.

All was well. Only, it wasn't. Just when we were saving the world, one case at a time, her life would be upturned again. The man who was like a godfather to her; who helped her get to where she is today; he'd lied to her. Betrayed her. And yet, he worked to absolve himself of all his sins. He worked to keep her safe.

I had to betray her too. I knew she'd hate me after what I needed to do. But it needed to be done. I tried to stop the storm. You can't stop storms. You can only avoid them. But Kate Beckett faces things head on.

She lost him. Lost another person who meant something to her. She didn't have many of those to begin with. I was angry at first, when she threw me out. But I understood then, why I stood where I stood with her. At an arm's length; with a whole wall between us. Fine, I would stay there for as long as she needed; because it was a glass wall, and I could see right through it; because one day when she would give me permission, I'd shatter it to pieces.

And when we both thought that things couldn't get worse; that at least we were back in it together – we were dealt another round of terrible cards. She dropped to the ground and the ground dropped from under my feet.

* * *

She knew that Rick wasn't trying to make her feel guilty. And yet she did. More because she knew what was yet to come. But she couldn't stop reading. She could never stop reading his work. His words were magical. Drawing her into an endless abyss; a different world but one she could always identify with. She couldn't put down Heat Rises, at the end when crap hit the fan, even if she had been close to hyperventilating at that point. And she couldn't put this down now. So she continued to read and hold on to the hope, that like all his stories that she loved, this one would have a just ending too.

* * *

Kate lying in the hospital. That was the image that I had to hold on to for three torturous months. At least she was awake. The only way I survived was because I remembered her eyes as she lay there. Her body might've been broken, but her soul wasn't. I saw the fierceness that was all Beckett shining through her eyes. They couldn't break her. Not my Beckett. So she needed space? I didn't like it. Not one bit. But I knew I'd give it to her because that's what she asked of me.

She was all I could think about; in my dreams and while I woke. I could see it affecting the people around me, but I couldn't help it. I tried to hide it best I could. But walking away from Kate -

By the time she found me again, I was a mess. My hands moved, my face moved, I smiled for show, I existed. I was a mechanical being. I was the tin man. Or was I the cowardly lion? Either way, she had my heart.

She told me, about her wall. I knew about it already, but I'm glad she figured it out too. And when she told me, that she wanted me to be around when it came down? Yeah, she didn't give me my heart back. She did me one better. She gave me hers.

After everything that had befallen her, I thought that finally I could help rebuild her life. Start anew. Things are never that easy though. At this point, one wouldn't think things could turn from bad to worse. I had to betray her again. I had to keep her away from the case that could get her killed. I was selfish, because I didn't want to see her die. I couldn't go through it again. So I hid it from her. I took the decision away from her. It meant the wall would stay; that I would stay on the other side. But if it would keep her alive and breathing, then stay on the other side I would. I could take it.

We worked and I was back to being the friend. A better friend than I was before. I tried to be everything she deserved. She deserves so much. She's a tigress and a lion cub; never a kitten; even in her vulnerabilities, she is strong. She's a fighter and she's been a victim. She's a giver but she tries not to take. She's all grace and she's all power. She's the one who takes the stage, and the one who works behind it. She's a warrior princess, and she's daddy's little girl.

She gave me glimpses into the other side of the wall. I could see more clearly. I don't go looking for trouble, but it finds me. It found me in a bank. Almost blew me up this time. But it didn't. Instead I got to live another day. She found me again. I saw clearly, so clearly for the first time because she couldn't hide from me anymore. The ineffectual curtains were all but yanked off. Yeah, the analogy is pretty good.

For a long time after that we were at a better place than we had ever been before. I thought that she was working on kicking that wall down, even without the case being resolved. She was trying. It filled me with hope. That's all I've ever wanted. Okay, don't hurt yourself snorting. You know what I mean.

And then things turned again. I found out that I wasn't the only one keeping secrets. To me it felt like at least I was keeping mine to save her. What was her excuse? I found out later than I wish I had, that she wasn't making excuses because she was busy putting in the work. She was getting ready for more. I felt like the world's biggest prick. I was being a jerk.

She explained it to me, in a few simple words. They were the kind of words that I understood. I'm the writer, but her eloquence puts me to shame on many an occasion. I had been hiding, and she found me again.

* * *

There were only a couple of more pages to go. She knew it would be hard. It was hard already. All the hurt that she had been through. She knew her side of it. Until now, she didn't know his, only having guessed it before. He did hide from her. They were more alike than she had thought. But this was his way of baring it all. As she made her way back from the kitchen with a glass of water, an amusing thought crossed her mind. He wrote all of this to let her know, even if he was good at just telling her. When it came to her, though, aside from certain exceptions, she didn't need to tell him. She was an open book to him, and her writer was an expert reader.

* * *

**A/N: **Donuts?

...

..

No? Okay.. Thoughts then?


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Castle.

**A/N: **Last chapter folks!

So, I made the mistake of re-reading Chapter 5 after it was published. And I couldn't **not** give you the next one, even though it's merely been a few hours. I am weak. Pfft.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

She picked up the second to last chapter and began reading it.

* * *

Kate has this terrible habit of almost dying and in the process, almost killing me. The case came up again, and brought the inevitable danger along with it. I took my chance, knowing full well that it might be my last. I told her exactly what I thought about her. Straight words. No subtext. All out there in the open where she had no option but to see it. I told her I loved her, for the second time. And she brushed it off.

She was blinded, I know that. Knew it then too. But I couldn't go through it again. She was angry. I knew she would be, but I'd hoped by then that she'd know why I had to risk her anger. But she wouldn't back off, and I told her that I would. I would back away from it this time; because I was selfish and I couldn't watch her try to get herself killed.

I walked away again. By now, you should know how hard that is.

As far as I knew, she was inviting death with open arms; inviting a war to her front door. As far as I knew, I might never see her again. I'd already lost her, and she'd lost me. I had other places to be. I didn't get the chance to grieve because I had to be the father and the son. So I did what I had to. I put on a mask, as my daughter put on her graduation robes.

I switched off all other emotions and focused on being a father. It was strange day. I was so proud of my daughter; always will be.

I came home, alone; resigned to the fact that that's how it's supposed to be. I deleted all the signs of my betrayal. There wasn't any point to them anymore. She tried to call me. I didn't pick up because I was trying to forget her. Stupid, Castle. Kate Beckett is not a woman to be forgotten.

I didn't know what was going on with her after I left her. I didn't know that she went into the battle head first and lost it. I didn't know that her brothers fought because of her and her family broke apart. I didn't know that she almost died again. I didn't know that she heard me when she was falling. I didn't know that that's why she hung on. I didn't know that she gave up one of the most important things in her life. I didn't know that it wasn't _the_ most important thing in her life, because I had replaced it. I didn't know, until she found me.

She was standing at my door, soaking wet – in the 'you're gonna catch pneumonia' kind of way. I was shocked and still holding on to my anger. I was ready to fight. But she was ready to love. And that was more powerful. She won.

She let me love her. I won.

This is the story of Kate Beckett. This is the story of the woman who found me. This is my story. This is how her story, and my story became ours.

* * *

The tears weren't coming anymore. She had probably cried her eyes dry at this point. She picked up the last page and realized that it was different from the others. There wasn't much written on it. Only a few words. So even if she was overwhelmed at this point, she read it.

_Kate,_

_I'm the luckiest guy on Earth to have you in my life. I know you're the detective. You're the one who asks the questions here. But I have something to ask of you this time. Find me, Kate. _

_Love, _

_Rick._

What on Earth? She looked up, as if she'd find him standing right in front of her. Of course not. That was stupid. But where was she supposed to look for him? It was past midnight. Actually it was nearly one am. How the time had flown while she was immersed in his words. Getting up to clear the tissues, she continued thinking. Working out the puzzle. Solving the case of the missing Castle. Another long sip of water helped her calm down. Focus, Kate.

It's Rick Castle. He'd have left a clue. She read the letter over and over and finally saw it. He did leave a clue.

"_I know you're the detective. You're the one who asks the questions here."_

Her brows furrowed as she worked it out in her head. It made sense. He was at the precinct? But she'd come from there? How had he even managed to write all this unless – unless he had been planning it for a while now? Oh God, he had been planning it for a while now. He probably got Esposito and Ryan to signal him once she left the precinct.

She picked up another couple of good tissues and stuffed them in her pant pockets – just in case. Her coat and gloves were lying ready near the door, waiting for her, like he was. Without stopping to actually don them, she grabbed them on her way out and locked the door. On her ride down the lift, she wore her jacket and gloves and checked for her phone and keys again. It was a good thing that she wouldn't catch traffic at this hour. She didn't have to break the law by using her gumball.

She rushed to the precinct, but still drove safely. Wouldn't do to go through all this and get into an accident. Not having the ability to summon any kind of patience, she ran up the stairs to the homicide department. She all but kicked the door down to the interrogation room and –

-and laughed at the sight that greeted her. Richard Castle had just been jerked out of dozing on the floor, with his right hand cuffed to the bar under the window. She was breathless from running, and from laughter, as she made her way to him and dropped to her knees onto the floor, right in front of him. She kissed his sleepy face and he smiled at her when she pulled away. It was the same smile; the same look he gave her when she found him alive and safe after the bank explosion nearly a year ago. It was all love.

"You found me!" He said, smiling ear-to-ear while the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Castle, why are you cuffed to the window?" she asked, and then, "And who did it? Was it Ryan or Esposito?"

It spoke volumes to both of them that she was fairly calm about finding him handcuffed to a window.

He gave her a sheepish look.

"Castle," she said in the kind of tone that a mother uses when she finds the last cookie has gone missing from the cookie jar. "Did you cuff yourself?"

"I may have," he said with a grin. He looked like the kid who stole the last cookie too.

"Do I want to know why?"

"Maybe. I had to stop myself from coming to you. Will power wasn't enough."

"And the next logical step was cuffing yourself?" She asked with a smirk.

"Yeah. Could you get the keys? They're in your desk."

She smacked a kiss to his lips and got up with a teasing smile. "I don't know, Castle. Is this why I had to find you?"

"Noooo…", he said, giving her a look. "It's not. And you won't find out until you release me."

She rolled her eyes. "Hmm. I'll have to think about it. You looked really comfortable when I came in."

"Kaa-ate!" he said with a pout. "The cuffs are chafing my wrists. You love my wrists."

"I do," she agreed with a nod, looking contemplative.

He went on. "And it'll be worth it. Don't you want to know what happens next?"

"It would be a shame to leave a story unfinished."

He nodded, grinning.

"Hmm. Okay, Castle. It had better be worth it," she said, though she knew it would be. Whatever it was. He was worth it.

With the keys from her desk now in her possession, she made her way back to Rick and released the handcuff.

"Finally. It's not one of my brighter ideas. Writers already have carpel tunnel."

"Mhmm," she said as she listened to him whine until – "Castle!" she yelped.

He had gotten up and wound his arm around her waist. He kissed her passionately, like he was dying of thirst and she was his oasis. Not that far from the truth.

"You read it all?" he asked while she fought to regain her breath. His steady breaths washed over her face as he lay his forehead on hers.

"Yeah," she breathed.

"Good. Did you read the letter carefully?"

"Yeah," she repeated.

"Good," he repeated. "Then you know what's coming."

"You?", she said as she looked up at him through her lashes, and bit her lower lip.

"Har har. You're such a comedian," he said flatly.

"I do," she answered, getting serious again.

"Hmm. That one comes later," he said with a smile and she swatted him, with no conviction. "You're the one who asks the questions in here. It's a part of your job. Your life. And you let _me_ be a part of your life. You let me be your partner. It's my turn to ask the question, Kate."

He got down on his knee, and pulled out a blue velvet box from his jacket. Opening it revealed a beautiful ring, with its platinum band and an inlaid diamond in the center, surrounded by two small cut emeralds also inlaid into the band.

She took a ragged breath, and let the tears fall. Her tear ducts apparently had time to replenish.

"Kate, you've read everything I have to say," he said, looking directly into her eyes. She couldn't look away; didn't want to look away. "You found me again." She nodded.

"I'll always come find you, Rick," she choked out.

"I'll always wait for you, Kate. But I don't want to wait for _this_ anymore. Kate, will you marry me? Will you do me the honor of continuing our story together?"

"Yes," she said, without even waiting a beat. "Yes," she repeated as he got up and put the ring on her finger. "Yes," she said again, as she wound her arms behind her neck; as they both crushed each other to themselves.

He let her cry it out in his arms. He'd done his fair share of 'blame it on the onions' earlier already. He been working up the courage the do this for a long time. It had been a while since the story was ready for her to read. He'd just been waiting for the opportunity to set it up the way he had today. Finally he got the chance when she called to cancel. He jumped on it, all crazy, all nerves.

With a final sniffle, she pulled herself together, and pulled away from him, with just an inch of space between them. "You think you're the lucky one that I found you."

"Duh!" he said and she laughed. Good.

"You're wrong. I'm the one who's lucky."

He shook his head. "Let's agree to disagree on that," he said and put his hands on her lips, gently tracing its lines. "But I'll compromise and we can agree to agree that we're lucky to have found each other."

He said the darndest things. She loved him all the more for it. They stayed that way, entwined in each other, till one of them had the sense to pull away. She did have to work tomorrow; which meant that he would have to work tomorrow. And who works after the day – or night – of their engagement? Richard Castle, and his fiancé, Kate Beckett. That's who. They'd have tons to talk about tomorrow. People to inform. Family who deserved to know. But for now? There was just them. So maybe they'd be a little groggy tomorrow. Today? Not a little. Probably a lot, judging from the look each saw in the other's eye.

They went home engaged.

* * *

**A/N: **Final thoughts? : )

Also, let's all be nice to me, and assume that there's a bar or rod or something under the interrogation room window. :\ .. Call it AU if it helps. ;) Cheers!

Thank you all for reading. xo


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Surprise!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. That's no surprise.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

He hadn't seen it in so long, but there it was, lying on his table in their study. The black leather bound book that held their story sat right in the centre of the heap of papers strewn a little more carelessly on this desk. He knew she liked to read it every now and then. Sometimes it would be after a hard day at work. Sometimes it would be after an argument with him; like she needed to remind herself that they had come so far, through so many hardships. Her eyes would twinkle then, and the corners of her mouth would lift, as would her eyes towards his only to see the twinkle reflected back at her. When he saw her reading it, he would remember too and then they would work through whatever it was that had made them momentarily forget.

Sometimes though, she would just read it for the sake of reading it – because she liked stories; because she loved their story. But she always made sure to keep it in its place on their bookshelf, and so to see it lying in the middle of his messy desk after a long day of paperwork for both of them worried him a little. Maybe she was more tired than he'd thought.

He moved towards it, glancing subconsciously at their bedroom where he knew she'd be getting ready to call it a night. A smile tugged at his lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled as his hand moved over the book in a caress that he otherwise used only on her – this _was_ her; this was them. He'd penned it down – or well, he typed it all out himself but he couldn't help but look at it with a reverence of a kind that befitted ancient objects of beauty which people associated with holiness. It was a treasure, and so, why not?

He opened it and almost laughed as the pages fluttered because of a gentle breeze that escaped from the air conditioning vent. It was like in the movies, where the protagonist would stumble exactly onto the right spot and have a moment of epiphany. The pages only feebly danced before they settled back down again, but it was magical enough for him.

He scanned each page which held the words that were so familiar to him, his words for them; and turned them till he reached the last page which seemed like the rest, but it wasn't. It wasn't. It was a tad bit crispier, a fraction whiter than the cream of the earlier pages, with its edges perfectly intact and the words as yet foreign to him. He sat down and pulled it closer to himself and began to read.

* * *

I knew where it was headed – it was headed to a place that until then had only been a part of my dreams. Every girl dreams of a tall, dark and handsome prince charming on his noble steed asking for her hand in marriage. It's been reiterated to me that I'm not every girl, but I've had this dream too. He's right though, in that not every girl has this dream come true for them. I'm one of the lucky few.

I don't have to wish upon a lucky star, nor blow out flames dancing atop pieces of wax, nor toss coins into enchanted waters. I only have to wish upon him, trust him; trust us.

It was a rough ride, till it wasn't, for us as the previous chapters might lead one to imagine. Eventually the path became better, because together we picked up the debris and cleared the road. That's not to say that neither of us stumbled. We did. The beauty of it would be the vice grip with which the other held on. If we stumbled together, we'd right ourselves together. Falling was possible. Not getting up however was not an option. And if it was? – it wasn't one we would chose.

He's the yin to my yang, the cream to my coffee, my better half, my soul mate, my perfect. He says the same thing about me, and I used to scoff at his cheesiness but he would make the argument that it's true because I couldn't refute it. Innocent until proven guilty. Right until proven wrong. So I agree, because if it's not false; it's true. It's our truth. We fit. Richard Castle and Kate Beckett are each other's missing pieces.

Armed with this truth when he asked me to marry him, of course I said yes and I thought that I would never again feel happiness of that intensity – when it was our combined joy so openly permeating the air around us. I was wrong.

We were happier on the day of our wedding. He whispered into my ear that very night that I was all he could see. Like he had gotten tunnel vision. I wouldn't have believed him if I hadn't known exactly what he meant. But I did. He was all I saw as my father led me down the aisle. I don't remember the walk. In my memories I just glide down till I'm beside him, till I take his hand or he takes mine. I don't really remember who reached out for whom, but I have a sneaking suspicion that we met halfway reaching out for each other, perfectly synchronized. Our wedding was perfectly synchronized like a maestro's performance where every key and every note was struck so exactly that it couldn't be any better than in that moment.

So I was proven wrong then about the happiest moment being when he asked me to marry him. I thought that clearly, it was then – the day we had been united in holy matrimony that would come out on top.

A long time ago he used to quip about how cute I looked when I was mad at him for being right, or annoyed at myself for being proven wrong. I used to cast him a glare that gradually lost its effectiveness unless I was really serious about it. He still says I'm cute when I'm angry – pokes at the furrow in my brow till I huff, scoff or glare. Of course that only amuses him more. He doesn't bother pointing out the times that I'm proven wrong though because I've admitted to him that maybe – just maybe sometimes it's worth it.

It was worth it when I was proven wrong again. Our wedding day had been a day of utter bliss. But was it the happiest day? I don't know.

It felt like happiest day when I saw a smiley face on the white stick. And then for what felt for the longest duration of time, I was a nervous wreck till I told him about it. Then it was the happiest day, it had to be judging by the look on his face. Well, his face and the fact that he picked me up and spun me around till I got so dizzy that he had to set me down on the bed and lay down beside me, our expressions probably twins in their mirth.

Then it felt like the happiest day as I held his hand so tightly that it might have cut off his circulation. When I realized and tried to take my hand back, he didn't let go. He just squeezed in return as his other hand wiped the tears from my eyes, and as my free hand wiped his. We were crying because the joy of it was overwhelming. Each little beat that was rapidly followed by another – it was so much.

He says I'm harder to deal with now than I was when he first started out at the precinct. I don't take offense – at least when the mood swings leave me alone – because I know he says it in jest. In reality, he's been by my side every step of the way. He's held me and fallen asleep with me in the middle of the night on the bathroom floor. He's come along with me to buy unflattering moo moos which I wear sometimes because they're so much more comfortable. He's put up with my grumbling at having to be behind a desk instead of behind a gun. He's cooked things for me that would seem disgusting to normal people – then again, he enjoys those too, so it wasn't much of a task for him. I didn't think I'd ever crave for smorlettes. Then again maybe it isn't me who's craving it, maybe it's the part of him inside me.

He's been the perfect father to his daughter – our daughter – as we've faced so many life altering changes. I couldn't dream of a better husband if I tried. He couldn't write a better husband if he tried.

In a few months, we'll have another happiest moment. I don't want to grade them anymore. We've always beaten the odds. Always bent the rules. Words mean different things to us than they do to others. "Always" is our promise. Coffees are our morning kisses – aside from the actual morning kisses. Apples and cherries are so much more than fruits. 'Happiest' is a superlative that has many siblings. It's the story of our lives – of our life together. Together, we make our story the happiest.

* * *

He took in a ragged breath and let out a stuttered sigh as he closed the book and looked at her glowing form leaning against the door frame to their room. She pushed off it and made her way towards him, with her right palm resting on her now large belly and her thumb rubbing gentle circles.

Turning his chair to face her, he wrapped his arms around her and though they couldn't completely encompass her anymore he was just as happy, maybe happier that he held two precious treasures so close to his heart. He listened for movement, hoped that his second offspring would channel the soccer player – or better yet – ninja within itself and let his pop know he's in there, kickin' it like a boss.

Kate carded his hair through her hands and he shivered under her touch – so soft and so intimate – he still found it miraculous, magical to be the lucky one and her only done. With a smile on his face, he turned and placed a sweet kiss to her belly. "Thank you," he said as he looked up at her. She graced him with her beaming smile.

"I'd say 'Always' but that thing is so full of sap already that I'm finding it nauseating."

He rewarded her with a hearty chuckle that vibrated through her and set her slightly achy spine tingling. "I'm pretty sure it's Rick junior that's responsible for the nausea."

She swatted his arm gently. "Don't go blaming our son. If it's anyone's fault, it's yours."

"My fault?" he asked in mock indignation, "They're _your_ hormones."

"My hormones that are in a state of utter chaos thanks to you."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, shush. You love it."

She pinched his ear and narrowed her eyes as she asked him, "Did you just shush me? _And _roll your eyes? Richard Castle, I invented the eye roll."

"Ow ow ow! Apples! Apples! I love your hormones. They're the best chemical messengers ever."

She released his ear and laughed at him as he tried to rub the pain away.

"Oh, you're messing with me. That's just mean, Beckett. I don't know when you're actually mad versus when it's the mood swings anymore," he said with a pout.

She bent enough to place a kiss to his reddened ear in apology. "Sorry. You're right."

"That you have the best hormones ever?"

This time she rolled her eyes. "You're right about my loving it."

"Loving your hormones?"

"Castle!" she huffed in annoyance.

"Kidding, kidding. You love being pregnant. Umm.. Except when you're throwing up – though it's been a while, come to think of it."

"Thank God for the little favors. But yes, I love being a mom. I love being your wife. I love what we've created," she said with a radiant smile.

"Our happiest moments," he whispered.

She nodded and added softly, "I love our story. I love you."

"I love you, too," he replied with a smile which grew so much and matched hers when they felt their little ninja kick.

"Come on. Time for bed," she said as she turned around and headed towards their room. "And we're not calling him Rick junior."

"How 'bout Nick? 'ick' from Rick and 'Nic' like Nikki," he suggested as he got up to follow her.

"You want our son to have the 'ick' from Rick?" She said with her eyebrow raised and a laugh straining her voice.

"Aww come on! It's perfect! Fate, Kate."

She rolled her eyes and cast him a bemused expression that he thought was filled with adoration.

"Nicholas. Hmm. Maybe we could use it as a middle name." In truth, she loved the name. They'd had this conversation before, but it was always fun to tease him. Though they hadn't zeroed in on a name yet, she knew that she was considering this one.

"Or use it as a first name and use something else as a middle name."

"I don't know, Rick. There are a lot of good options out there."

"Well, we're not naming him Kevin or Javier or a combination of the two; no matter how many times those two beg about it."

She chuckled. Yeah, she couldn't see their son being a 'Kavi' or 'Jevin' either.

And so they went to bed discussing all the potential names – some really absurd suggestions from Rick – till they fell into a peaceful sleep, filled with dreams of their next happiest moments.

* * *

**A/N: **Where did this come from? I don't know. Maybe it was Feli's comment on twitter. Maybe I was just in the mood to write and couldn't write a whole new story. Maybe I felt the need to write a little magic for chapter 7. I'm not sure. If she seems too sappy and completely unlike herself – uh .. sorry, what can I say? She's pregnant ;).. It's the mood swings. Anyway, I hope you like it; but I'll understand if you don't. Thanks for reading. : ) x


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